A Collection of Drabbles
by Dragons and Otters
Summary: Various pairings and worlds; drabbles I wrote for my Tumblr's 500 Follower Celebration. See individual chapters for rating, pairing, length, warnings, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Helloooo! I recently celebrated 500 followers on tumblr (find me dragonsandotters-dh) and I took prompts. I've finally finished them all and wanted to share them with y'all here.

There are different pairings in here, with different warnings and of varying lengths, so check each chapter for that. I hope you enjoy!

Here's a quick table of contents:

2\. On The Way Home; Drarry

3\. The Brothel; Dramione

4\. Nightmares; Dramione

5\. Compromises; PePin [Remus x Petunia]

6\. Revelation; Paneville

7\. Quench; Dramione

8\. Choices; Flintwood


	2. Chapter 2

**On The Way Home  
** **Ship:** Drarry  
 **Song:** Wild by Troye Sivan  
 **Words:** 249  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** None

" _Potter_! I —"

Draco's incessant opposition finally died on his lips as Potter's mouth found _that_ spot on his neck — all further complaints settling into moans of pleasure when he began nipping and suckling at the sensitive skin there.

Draco's body was pressed unceremoniously into the brick wall of a dilapidated alley — somewhere between his flat and the bar. Past the lamp post, apparition point, and Knight Bus stop where Potter had attempted to derail them before.

They'd been playing games since Draco had started at the DMLE, coy little smirks and snide comments. Potter had become much more Slytherin in adulthood, matching Draco in ways he never had in school.

Just the memories of their office banter sent a thrill into Draco's bones, and then Potter's fingertips brushed against the exposed skin on his stomach as he pressed into Draco more fully. His lips were everywhere, and Draco's skin was set ablaze from his attention.

He'd tried to prevent falling for this _new_ version of Potter — the one that didn't have the weight of the whole Wizarding World pressed firmly atop his shoulders. But it would just be so easy…

"Come upstairs," Draco gasped against Potter's plump lips as they fit against his own mouth in a desperate kiss.

His stomach clenched — he knew it would be harder to resist his true feelings once he'd bedded The Chosen One — but Draco felt a smile blossoming against his lips. And he felt himself

 _falling_.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Brothel**

 **Ship:** Dramione  
 **Song:** Woman by Harry Styles  
 **Words:** 255  
 **Rating:** M  
 **Warnings:** Voldemort wins!AU; implied stripping/prostitution

It's been a long year.

The first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts found Hermione Granger writhing on the lap of a drunk wizard as he lapped at the side of her face with his thick, wet tongue.

She can see Luna in the distance, toying with a man who hangs halfway out of his seat from the weight of the liquor coursing through his system, and Hermione is ever jealous of the far-off look that dominates Luna's face all the time now.

She sees Ginny out of the corner of her eye, gripping a thin, black leather rope poised to strike at a man who waits greedily for her to unleash her ire upon him.

She can feel his eyes on her — his anger that he still hasn't been able to secure her all for himself, his desperation to keep this filthy man's tongue from re-tracing the path he'd forged long ago.

Draco Malfoy has accomplished a lot for the Dark Lord, after all, and he believes he deserves The Brothel's top prize.

His eyes move from her for a short moment so he can survey the rest of his club in all its greasy glory. When his gaze falls to her once more, she is slowly approaching him, swaying her hips with a smirk upon her lips.

She can see his jaw twitch in anticipation, and her smirk deepens.

 _One step closer_ , she thinks.

If she plays her cards right, nestling _Sir Malfoy_ further into the palm of her hand, she can find and rescue Harry Potter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Nightmares**

 **Ship:** Dramione

 **Song:** Something Just Like This; The Chainsmokers  & Coldplay

 **Words:** 534

 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** implied PTSD

Draco Malfoy jolted awake after a shrill scream rang out around him. His heart hammered loudly in his chest as his eyes opened wide and quickly surveyed his surroundings like only a person who's lived in constant fear for their life could.

He tried to slow his breathing as he reassured himself of his place in a large bed — a bed he shared with Hermione Granger, who was currently glistening from the moonlight bathing her sweaty skin.

She was beautiful even in the throes of a terrifying nightmare. Draco maneuvered around the bed, avoiding her thrashing limbs and trying to block out the sounds of her horror.

He wasted no time in assuming the safest position for them both before attempting to wake her. Finally, after he'd straddled her hips, slid his knees behind hers, interlocked their ankles and grabbed her wrists, securing them above her head, Draco spoke loud and gentle.

"Hermione."

She stirred beneath him, whimpering.

"Hermione wake up."

"Wha —"

For a minute she froze beneath him, her eyes popping open and bouncing around frantically. Her breathing was erratic, and her body began to shake.

"It's okay, Hermione. I've got you. I've always got you."

"Draco," her voice came out broken and sad, and tears forged a quick path down her cheeks as she stared up at him. The moon was his backlight, and he looked like an angel come to rescue her.

She melted beneath him, and as her breathing calmed, he gently untangled their bodies and fell to the bed beside her. Once he'd relieved her of his weight, he faced her. With a small smile, she turned so her back was to him, and he wrapped his broad arms around here like a cage, pulling her flush against him.

Hermione felt safe here. His skin against her own was like balm to her quaking nerves, and from the comfort of his arms she was able to shed her nightmare like dry skin.

Her hands reached out and grasped the arm he had draped atop her stomach. She brought it closer to her face, her palm sliding down the column of his bicep and into the inky black depths of his Dark Mark.

She felt his sharp intake of breath against her ear as her fingertips brushed over the marred skin. He still looked at the tattoo as a symbol of his weakness and cowardice. She looked upon it tenderly, with empathy filling her heart until it felt like it could implode from the weight of his pain.

"I wish I was a better man for you," he confessed under the cover of darkness, when he didn't have to look into her warm brown eyes filled with love and acceptance.

Hermione only smiled and placed that smile against the mark that once stood for ridding the world of her kind. She kissed his skin, and though his stomach churned, he felt warmth rolling across the hills and valleys of his body, from the mark outward.

It almost felt like magic as the heat wrapped itself around his nerves and calmed them. And it was a kind of magic — love, and it said more than words ever could.


	5. Chapter 5

**Compromises**

 **Ship:** PePin (Petunia Evans/Remus Lupin)

 **Song:** Fix You by Coldplay

 **Words:** 844

 **Rating:** M  
 **Warnings:** none; part II of Tuum Fatum (can also be found as chapter 2 of Tuum Fatum)

Petunia Evans sighed for what felt like the thousandth time since they had returned to her room at the Hog's Head. As far as Remus was concerned, Dumbledore's task sounded noble — terrifying of course, but he was more than happy to put Moony to good use, toward something that could save their world. Petunia on the other hand...

"Honestly, infiltrate a pack of werewolves!" she half-mumbled, half-shrieked to herself as she looked through their drawers as if what they wore would matter to Greyback or his merry band of monsters.

"We'll be accepted easily, as mates, and Greyback has always —" Remus' jaw twitched, his eyes flashing gold as he considered the reality of their situation. Greyback would be more than delighted to try and corrupt him — and Remus would have to play along.

Petunia turned to face him, studying his expression carefully as he shivered from his thoughts. "Always what, Remus?"

His eyes snapped to her, and she took a concerned step toward him at the ghosts flashing across his face. "He's tried to recruit me before."

"You never told me that!"

Remus frowned, casting his eyes to their feet. "He's my Alpha."

Petunia sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening as she closed the gap between them. Her hands came up to cradle his face, and she searched his eyes the way she always did. She could read his emotions like no one else on Earth could. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath while wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

"Are you really sure about this, love?" she asked quietly, touching her nose gently to his.

He breathed in her scent, letting the sweet smell wash over his nerves. "We have to try. If - if we can use this curse to do something good…we won't know unless we try."

Petunia nodded, knowing what he meant without him needing to finish his sentence, and leaned her face in closer, pressing their lips together in a reassuring kiss.

But Remus heard her quiet grumble as she turned back to packing — "It's not a curse."

 **oOo**

Petunia watched with satiated eyes as her mate grunted, his face contorting into one of uncontrolled pleasure. She was still feeling small tremors through her body from her own orgasm, but she appreciated being able to watch Remus as he willingly let go of his control. He only did that with her. And only because he knew after all these years that she could handle anything Moony threw at her — even if Moony wasn't as dominant in Remus' brain as he seemed to think.

Her chest heaved as Remus rolled off her, his own breath coming in spurts. He quickly enveloped her body with his arms, pulling her close, and she nestled into him, breathing in that amorous scent of his.

"You know," she said after a few moments of them listening to each others' hearts slowing in sync, "Harry is rather cute."

"Rather cute?" Remus asked with a chuckle. "He's the damn cutest kid I've ever seen."

Petunia smiled brightly, wiggling her body so that she was face to face with him. "I think we could do better."

Darkness shadowed his face, but Petunia pulled closer to him, cupping her hands around his cheeks and forcing him to look her in the eye. "We've talked about this," she whispered, not really trying to convince him of impregnating her in that moment, but genuinely hoping she could rid him of his self-hate once and for all.

"I know," he sighed, closing his eyes against her loving and understanding ones. "I just —"

One of her hands moved from the side of his face up to his hair, threading her fingers through the sandy blonde locks. "I know," she responded, maneuvering so she was properly lying on her back as she pulled him into her bosom. She cradled his head, running relaxing fingers through his hair in the way she knew he loved. "I won't push, but if we don't try, we'll never know just how cute our own kid could be."

She could practically feel the gears in Remus' head turning as he sunk his face deeper into her skin. Petunia smiled to herself as she let him consider all of his options, somehow knowing in her bones that he would see things her way.

After a few minutes, he groaned loudly and shifted away from her, lifting himself up on his elbows. The smirk on his face reminded her that this man — with all of his faults and insecurities — was a Marauder through and through.

"You would be awfully sexy carrying my child."

She scoffed, but it morphed into a laugh as he growled dramatically, flipping her over and running his fingertips over her bum and up her back. She shivered at his attention, and noticed with silent glee as he entered her once more that he didn't cast any charms.

Petunia's stomach flipped excitedly as she settled in for round two.


	6. Chapter 6

**Revelation**

 **Ship:** Paneville

 **Song:** Drive by Ed Sheeran

 **Words:** 253

 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** pregnancy

Neville Longbottom couldn't quite believe his ears at Pansy's revelation. He blinked at the painfully beautiful woman in front of him, his jaw hanging slightly open.

"Close your mouth unless you're going to say something," she snapped at him fiercely.

"I'll do you own better, baby," he responded. His gaping mouth closed and curled up into a mischievous grin. As she opened her mouth to respond, he caught her lips, pressing his gently against them.

She pulled away, blinking away tears in defiance. "Don't call me that unless you mean it."

Neville shook his head incredulously. "You're _literally_ carrying my baby," he said, testing the idea out with his own voice for the first time. "Are you ever gonna stop telling me that?"

Pansy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "No."

He chuckled under his breath, moving his hands to her arms and pulling them apart. Neville caught her eyes as he moved them to her stomach, touching the place where his child grew with reverence.

"So...you're happy?" He knew she was kicking herself for the way her tone was tinged with desperation.

Neville slid his hands around her waist and pulled her into his lap. She turned her face down to look at him, and her jet black hair crashed like a wave over his face.

His vision was filled with her, the most beautiful, frustrating, confident woman in the world. He still couldn't believe she loved him back. He stared up at her in awe.

"I've never been happier."


	7. Chapter 7

**Quench**

 **Ship:** Dramione  
 **Song:** You Only Live Once, The Strokes  
 **Words:** 298  
 **Rating:** K  
 **Warnings:** implied PTSD

Most of the time, Draco Malfoy felt like he was drowning.

He saw the world through a thick haze of moving water. He felt the weight of it pushing in on him, and he knew it would be a fatal mistake to breathe. But his lungs threatened to burst from lack of oxygen, his veins pulsing deeply within his skin.

Even though The Dark Lord was well and truly destroyed, Draco felt the same blunt fear for his life, for his _way_ of life, for his family, for his everything. He lived with constant worry that he would lose _everything_ — despite the fact he couldn't name more than a few things still important to him.

He moved through life like the dead, unsure of how to continue on like he hadn't committed atrocities and watched as worse was done to humanity by others, that he stood by their sides while they did it.

Draco felt the imprint of every life he'd taken with his own magic, every child's innocence he had stolen, every crime he'd condoned by the mere act of being present.

Being with Hermione Granger was quite literally a breath of fresh air. It was _safe_ to breathe when she was near. Her supple skin quenched his unending thirst, the curves of her body offered sanctuary from his incessantly dark mind. A wave of curly brown locks crashed along her back, inviting him closer, faster, harder.

He was a beggar at the altar of her body, an unworthy miscreant seeking redemption in the pureness of her soul.

She cleansed him with her empathetic smile and the love shining through her molten chocolate colored eyes.

And while he knew he deserved none of this peace, he would drink from her for as long as she allowed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Choices**

 **Ship:** Flintwood

 **Song:** Sovereign Light Cafe by Keane

 **Words:** 937

 **Rating:** T

 _AU in which Marcus' eighth year and Oliver's seventh year is 1994-95, Harry Potter's fourth year. [Putting Oliver in Cedric Diggory's year.]_

Oliver Wood's stomach plummeted — and it had nothing to do with the deep dive he took just outside the Forbidden Forest's tree line.

He tightened his grip on the broom between his legs as his eyes scanned the land below. The area around the lake a few miles from Hogsmeade's border was empty. There was no sign of the man he'd still held a sliver of hope would meet him today.

It'd been three days since the third task, since Cedric Diggory had been murdered. Oliver was used to the hollow feeling in his chest by now. He'd understood something dark was coming since the Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup earlier that year — but he'd never imagined that _Voldemort could return_ … not even in his wildest nightmares.

He was used to the hollow feeling in his chest — he never could've prepared himself for the sight of a competitor — of a _friend_ — dead, empty of life. _Murdered_.

Marcus Flint had been his second thought.

Right after clearing his head of the horrified screaming — of _no, no, no_!

He'd searched the crowd manically for Marcus. When his gaze landed on the man he'd _hated_ for years..had only just really gotten to know, gotten to _like_ , he was horrified by what he saw in Marcus' eyes.

 _Acceptance_.

Oliver had understood this possibility in the abstract. He knew the Flints had been aligned with Voldemort during the first war. But he never actually let himself sit with the idea that one day Marcus really would have to choose.

He also never realized that choice would be between the light — _him_ — and the darkness.

A year ago he would've sneered at the idea, would've shrugged and made a snarky comment. Something like _I always knew there was something wrong with him_. He would've thrust his nose and chin up, confirming for himself that he was always _better_.

But now —

He hadn't meant for it to happen at all!

The school had gone and hosted a fucking year-long international tournament — had actually fucking _cancelled_ _Quidditch_.

For the whole year!

His _last_ year!

He'd never known anger quite like that before. It still made his blood boil to remember the meeting with Professor McGonagall.

Oliver had continued practicing, of course. He'd fly along the tree tops of the Forbidden Forest. He found the little lake a few weeks into the year.

He hadn't meant to run into _Marcus Flint_ there.

Naturally, he was the only other flyer in school that took it just as seriously as class work or the tournament. He was the only other one that _made time_ like Oliver did.

They pushed each other to be better. And he'd slowly opened up to Marcus — who'd actually returned his candor with his own thoughts and feelings.

He hadn't meant to let it get so far, though. He never imagined his heart would crack along the middle at the sight of an empty piece of land, at the knowledge Marcus wasn't coming.

His hands twisted around his broom, veins bulging out of his skin, and he clenched his jaw in determination.

Oliver turned around, flying furiously through the air, dipping and twirling, swirling in and around the trees.

 _Up, up, up_.

He came in fast, skimming the grass on the grounds and landing mid-run. He pulled the broom around his body as his legs pushed with the momentum from his flight.

He approached the castle's front door, adrenaline still coursing through his system, propelling him forward with purpose.

Oliver ignored the incredulous stares as he made his way toward the dungeons and the Slytherin dorms. He couldn't think past his anger, his grief, his _passion_.

He didn't even feel bad when his hand reached out and plucked a first year snake up by their scruff. "Get Flint," he growled before dropping the boy back onto his feet.

The child's eyes were wide with surprise, but he darted through the entrance and disappeared into the Common Room. He half expected to be waiting all night, that a little firstie couldn't move a brooding Marcus Flint.

But he came out, a question in the arch of his eye brow. Oliver pushed him down the corridor and into a small, dark alcove. He twirled his wand through the air, casting a few privacy wards before meeting Marcus' gaze with a fiery stare.

"Show me your arm," he said, his voice a terrifying whisper.

Marcus didn't even object.

He thrust his arm into the space between them and rolled up his robe's sleeve to reveal an inky black tattoo slithering atop the skin of his forearm.

Oliver could feel the muscles in his jaw twitch as he stared at the mark.

Before he could breathe, before he could think —

He thrust himself against Marcus, pushing the other wizard into the cold stone wall. Oliver crushed his lips against Marcus' firm mouth.

His mind instantly filled with Marcus' taste, the way his breath danced along his cheek. He was lost in the dominating dance their tongues performed.

Oliver's gut twisted as he pulled away, his heart screamed that there must be some other way.

That this wasn't fair.

But he forced the tears from his eyes as he looked down at a panting and confused Marcus.

"You made your choice," he mumbled softly as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He glanced down at the man's mouth once more before breaking the wards around them by stepping away. "Goodbye, Marcus."

The Slytherin stood stunned into silence as Oliver walked away without looking back.


End file.
